


Good for You!

by Agent_Zap



Series: Wentworth Miller [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bondage, Dark, M/M, MWPP Era, Multi, Non-Consensual, Rape, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Zap/pseuds/Agent_Zap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius yelled. Sirius paced. Sirius hit his fists alternately against the wall and his own head. When nobody saw it, of course. Why had James gone after that waste of magic? Why was Remus so bloody upset about it? Wouldn't they all have been better off if that - that - yeuch - hadn't come out of the shrieking shack alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good for You!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, making no money.  
> Beta: Gobi_Rex - Thank you!
> 
> Why the fuck can’t I add a description of a series?!? Well, here goes.  
> I often thought about putting my oldest fics up here, too, just to keep it all in one archive. Then I’d read them through and think that nobody really needed to see that. (Honestly: it's not great literature.)  
> But then, last year, Wentworth Miller came out as gay. And his description of how harrowing it had been to be in the closet reminded me very much of a process of self-discovery, acceptance and disclosure that I’d gone through. I got curious and looked him up – found that he’d written one film manuscript; Stoker. I watched the film… And yeah, I knew I had to put these stories up here. That film reminded me so much of my early fics – so full of self-loathing; full of belief that what you want from the depth of your heart makes you a monster. Let’s not forget that we still live in a world where people are made to feel this way by all kinds of normativity. Let’s call this the Wentworth Miller series (even though all the fics are Harry Potter). Not all of these stories are openly dark – but they’re all from the same period. Please read tags carefully.

Sirius yelled. Sirius paced. Sirius hit his fists alternately against the wall and his own head. When nobody saw it, of course. Why had James gone after that waste of magic? Why was Remus so bloody upset about it? Wouldn't they all have been better off if that - that - yeuch - hadn't come out of the shrieking shack alive? James still hung with him and laughed with him, and they had fun as ever, even though there was always just this hint of a second glance whenever Sirius suggested something.

But Remus. Remus who'd always just hung back and smiled and blushed and provided them with alibis and pointed out flaws in their plans, when he wasn't turned inside out and heading those amazing, thrilling chases through the forest. Just smiled. And blushed. Being Remus.

And now he was pretending Sirius wasn't there. Which didn't make much difference, right? Because he never did anything really that Sirius and James couldn't do on their own. Or bringing in Peter, if they needed a third party. He wasn't that important. And he really was a wimp, wasn't he, if he couldn't get his carnivorous guts together and see what an amazing chance to get rid of Snape it had been?

So Sirius wasn't exactly sure why he was in the broom shed yet again, alone and screaming at the innocent walls.

As if on cue, one of the old brooms behind him toppled over with a loud clatter. Sirius whirled about, getting his wand out, but never got further than

"EX-!"

before he felt his whole body turn rigid and he toppled over, rolling onto his side so all he could see was the shower room door. And his wand, falling to the ground in front of him, bouncing a couple of times before skidding to a halt on the sandy floor.

For a moment all he heard was the rushing of blood in his own head and he thought he'd gone deaf, so quiet was the room. Then the sound of deliberately slow footsteps reached him. Closing in. Swishing of robes. Unable to lower his eyelids, he realized that at least his ability to sweat hadn't been petrified; a drop rolled down his temple and stung his eye.

Entering his field of vision came a pair of scruffy old boots, almost covered by the black robes hanging around them. A pale hand reaching out of a black sleeve reached down and picked up his wand. The fury inside turned his view blurry and red, but he couldn't so much as tremble.

He heard a tutting.

"Too bad. If you hadn't been about to curse me, I could have just tied you up. Now I had to petrify you."

The drawling voice left no doubt about who his stalker was. For a second, some kind of admiration sneaked its way into his mind - some nerve after that last trick! - then his fury reached a whole other level and the rushing, the sweating, the blur, seemed to evaporate and his thinking processes and perception came together like crystal glasses clinking.

"Of course... That leaves me with the choice between applying the ropes myself, or simply cast another spell. Hm..."

Okay, whatever trick Snape thought he was going to play on Sirius, he was going to regret it. Oh, yes.

"I'm not really here to enjoy myself, though, so I guess I'll just cast the spell. I'm really here to teach you a lesson."

Sirius was lifted off the floor and whirled around while ropes tied his arms tight to his body at the same time as the Petrificus was lifted. Nausea hit him as he also felt a gag pull the corners of his mouth back, and the feeling of cold cotton fabric rubbed against his tongue.

A nasal bellow escaped him as he was finally thrown face down over the bench in the middle of the room and had his breath punched out of him. He scrambled to get his feet back under him, but was quickly squashed back down against the bench by a hand flat between his shoulder blades. His legs were kicked apart and Snape's unoccupied hand caught his bound wrists and pulled them up, right to the edge of pain. 

"Do you know what it is I need to teach you?" the git droned behind him. Let me guess! A comes before B? Hagrid's mother was a midget? You're a greasy, insane bastard? Because, I don't really care!

He heard a deep sigh. "No, I don't think telling you would assist the process. Let me show you, then."

Snape let go of his hands, but he immediately felt the ropes lengthen down across his sides and tie him to the bench. Then he forgot to breathe as Snape's cool hand gently lay across his forehead, stroked down his cheek and finally lifted up his chin while the boy stepped over the bench and crouched down in front of him, catching Sirius' gaze with those freaky black eyes of his and looking intently at him without his usual scowl.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, growled and took a couple of deep breaths. Snape tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Yes, I'll just show you then."

He let go of Sirius' chin, got up and stepped back over the bench. Sirius realized that if he hung his head, he could actually see under the bench, he couldn't see what Snape was doing above knee level, but at least he could tell where in the room he was. It made his head pound, though, to keep that position. It felt like his cheeks were trying to crawl into his eyes.

Snape was kneeling down behind him, now. Then he put his hands on Sirius' ass. Sirius felt his seat muscles clench, even as he wanted to relax. He didn't care what Snape was doing, it had nothing to do with him. The boy wanted revenge - of course. Sirius hated to admit it to himself, but he could almost respect that. So, take it stoically and you'll really come out the winner.

Snape's hands were wandering, up to his waist, and Sirius was wondering what Snape would use for a cane as he felt and watched hands move around his waist to the drawstring of his pants, loosening them and pulling them down along with his shorts. It was a weird feeling having his bits out in the open like that, and an even weirder sight, so he finally lifted his head, closed his eyes and decided to just take whatever might come. 

Then Snape's hands came back to his ass. Just stroking him, gentle like. That sick prick! Count on Snape to get off on spanking. But the hands just kept stroking him, then squeezing gently at his tense flesh. He was loosing patience, enough of this already! Finally the hands lifted from his ass and with some kind of relief he anticipated the first blow. Instead, Snape pushed his legs even more apart and leaned against him, and he felt one arm wrapping around his waist, and the hand of another suddenly cupping his balls carefully.

The clash of sensation and emotion, colliding within him at this simple touch, had him reeling. The fingers gently lifting his sac and tips playing with its contents sent shocks of lust to some part of his brain he really, really didn't want to be associated with right now. Get off me, get off me, get off me!! The nausea was returning. But then Snape moved the hand on his waist down towards his prick, and he thought he heard himself whimper as he realized he was already half hard, and when that hand ran a single finger from the base, up the underside, to flick the slick head, he felt himself bobbing away from that finger, that is, growing harder.

Then Snape caught his erection firmly at the base, just holding tight and pressing the heel of his hand against his pubis to keep him in place while Snape removed his other hand and slowly pressed up against him. Through the material of his robe, his own erection felt firm and warm and rough. He moved his hips so the bulge got caught low in Sirius' crack, under his cheeks, rubbing at the skin behind his balls.

Then he let go completely and left Sirius gasping against the gag on the bench, breath driving in and out of his treacherous body. He heard the swishing sounds of disrobing. Pressed his eyes even more tightly shut and abandoned himself to this madness, shivering and sliding even further down against the bench, knees grinding against the floor.

He hadn't been aware he'd been waiting for Snape's skin on his until he felt the lean stomach and hipbones leaning against him. Snape reached up and grabbed a hold of his shoulder, the other hand winding down to reach his prick again, catching the head between thumb and forefinger and pinching mercilessly. Sirius had the impression that all of his being was contained in that tiny piece of flesh, and he was letting go, and opening up, and loosing control, when Snape let go of him, grabbed his own prick and with expert aim rammed it into Sirius' ass while tearing loose the gag. Sirius' howling filled the shed.

Stars were dancing on the insides of his eyelids from both pain and pleasure, and as Snape held onto his hips and began moving in and out of him, filling him and stretching him wide, he dropped his head and gasped in the night air. He could hear the slamming of flesh against flesh, feel Snape's sac almost colliding with his own on each thrust, and cracking his eyes open, he could see it. Spellbound - hah! - he stared at Snapes naked and straining thighs, his veined and rose coloured prick moving in him, and the black curly haired, heavy sac behind it. His own, darker coloured and looking right at him, dripping. He felt the tell tale tension gathering in the bottom of his abdomen and stared, hypnotized, at himself.

Then he heard a well known voice.

"Tell me how it feels."

His head shot up and his glazed eyes weaved in and out of focus until settling on the lone figure standing in the door.

"Remus!"

He didn't recognize his own voice. That was not him. No no. But over there was Remus, looking at him as if expecting something.

"Remus...!"

And behind him was Snape, now still, deep inside him, and his hand firmly at the base of his prick again, while running the other hand smoothly up and down his back. Snape.

"Remus, Remus..."

Remus narrowed his eyes, cocked his head and slowly walked towards him. Them. Him.

"Tell me. How does it feel to find pleasure in something you absolutely loathe, something you'll detest yourself for for the rest of your life?"

Sirius gasped, dizzy, trying to maintain focus on Remus as Snape started moving again.

"Go on, I really want to know. Maybe I missed something."

"Reme..."

Remus stopped right in front of him and crouched down, catching Sirius' chin in his hand and lifting it up so they were eye to eye. Sirius had a flash of dja vu. Then he was drowning in those warm brown eyes, and he felt his whole body tightening as he spent in long, strained bursts, gritting his teeth.

Weary and drained, he regained focus and looked at Remus' scarred face, his curious expression. He winced as he felt Snape withdraw and release the ropes on his wrists, and not just from the raw, empty feeling between his legs. Snape had never reached climax. He could hear the other boy get up and put on his robes. Remus was still staring at him.

"No comments, huh? Well I guess I was lucky after all. But thanks for the well meant thought. It's wouldn't be fair between friends not to reciprocate, right?"

He smiled and pinched Sirius' cheek.

"See you later, Black."

Sirius slid down off the bench and curled up while listening to the sounds of the two others leaving. Then he tried to grind his knuckles and his cheek bone against the rough floor hard enough to abrade the skin, but there wasn't enough weight behind his effort.

"Remus."

Finally he drew together enough numbness to work his pants up and tie the string with shaking hands. Then he walked back to the castle.


End file.
